What Comes Of AP English: the Psychologist Chronicles
by Honey.Dew Mellon
Summary: Another plot bunny born in the classroom! Will be more fandoms than just those listed, and definitely more characters! What would happen if our favorite characters all went to a therapist? And not just any therapist? Take a look inside their minds as they talk to the doctor. Warning: crackfic. Read At Own Risk. What is seen will never be unseen. Open to requests by PM.
1. Torchwood

**The concept of this story was born from the minds of Mellon-Nin, MerryDew and HoneyBadger. This particular chapter was written by MerryDew, Edited by Mellon-Nin.**

 **Disclaimer: We do not own any characters. Yet.**

 **We do not take responsibility for any trauma or mental scaring of any kind, as well as injuries from ROFLing. We do, however take great pleasure in announcing our stories have the ability to produce WTF? moments. Please send us pictures of your reactions. We're making a website.**

 **Author's Note below.**

The Therapist crossed his legs in front of him as he waited. The task he had been set was unusual but he was being paid extra for it and his degree had equipped him to deal with it. He reached out to pick up the notebook he had prepared for this session. It was the first of many sessions he would have for this job and he had been given complex notes on each of his clients. Notes that he really didn't want to read, because who has time for that? But as it is required for him to get paid, he didn't really have a choice.

He had just finished re-reading (what was wrong with him today?) his notes on the pair who had been booked for this time slot - and started to wonder if perhaps he was being lead on and no one was actually coming (wouldn't have been the first time) - when two tall men moved into the room.

One wore a dark blue military coat with bronzed buttons, while the other wore one with a bronze crest indicating an actual military position on his coat over his heart. The two looked similar but all it took for him to be able to tell the difference between them was one wore his coat open to flop down across the couch while the other stood with his hands clasped in front of him. Knowing didn't make introductions any less awkward, however, so he forced a smile and opened his mouth to speak.

"Jack and… Jack, it's a pleasure to meet you. Now, I understand that you two are having a hard time coexisting?"

The Jack Harkness that had served as a captain with a RAF air squadron glared down at the one who had shifted into a slightly more comfortable position on the couch. There was space for the other to sit comfortably but only if he would be comfortable with his side pressed up against the other Jack. Which, according to the glare he was aiming at the other man, (if looks could kill...) was not the case.

"Now I understand that Jack… may I call you Jack? has an issue with," he looked down at his notes only to realize he had let his inner ditz show, "...Jack... due to a case of stolen identity?" He already hated this case, why did he always get the weird ones? Extra pay be damned.

"Gonna have to be more precise with your questions, Doc." The Therapist winced, he knew he had made an error but he didn't need it pointed out.

"Alright then, shall I use Captain to differ between the two of you?"

"That won't work either Doc." The Therapist winced again, he hated that word, 'doc'. Reminded him of something that he would rather forget.

"Fine then, I'll indicate which one of you I am addressing at the time." He could feel heat growing in his cheeks as he flipped through his notebook in the hopes of finding another discussion topic, one that wouldn't lead to his embarrassment.

"Alright." he gestured to the Jack who was standing "Would you like to explain why you feel that Jack invaded your privacy?" From his facial expression the Therapist could tell that he had finally done something right. Well, it had to happen one day, right?

"When I first met this man," The Therapist made a note of the fact that he didn't call him Jack. "He was pretending to be a member of the military and he said some things," he flushed bright red, "that sounded very nice to me at the time but now that I've had the chance to think about them I realized how creepy that they actually were."

"I see… Jack, would you like to give your opinion on the matter at hand?" This time he gestured to the man who had made himself at home on the couch.

"I was just being honest with you, I wasn't exactly expecting to be thrown back in time randomly and come across the man whose name I had stolen so-"

"Hah!" the other Jack cut him off with the exclamation, "So then you admit that you stole my identity."

"Yes, but you were already dead at the time so I don't really see the problem here, it's not like I acted dishonorably when I was being you." The Therapist could tell that he was losing control of the situation but for the moment he was content to watch and wait, so long as it didn't devolve into actual violence all would be fine.

"The hell you didn't! You practically flaunted around your sexuality and you're a con man! What part of that sounds even remotely honorable to you?" Both Jack's were red in the face now and the Therapist interlaced his fingers as he watched. This was most interesting, some distant part of him was screaming that this wasn't a part of his job but he ignored it. It was often he got to watch drama like this unfold.

"So? It's not like you're straight, I just brought you out the closet." The Jack who was sitting chuckled. "Besides, it's not you were being all that secretive about it the night that we met, we danced right out in front of everyone and you were the one who kissed me!"

"Because _you_ told me that I was going to die the next day, you manipulated me!" Both of the Jacks were on their feet now and the Therapist decided that perhaps it was time for him to intervene before the confrontation became physical.

"Let's both sit down and take a deep breath, shall we?" Both men obeyed despite the dark resentment that crossed the face of the Jack that had previously insisted on standing. "Now what I'm getting from this is that you" he gestured to the Jack who still had his coat buttoned up, "resent him," he gestured to the other, "for doing something that you couldn't do because of what the time period you were born in demanded of you. It sounds like what we're dealing with here is a simple case of time period erosia."

He settled down and crossed his left leg over his knee, he couldn't help the triumph that he felt at having been able to realize the issue so quickly.

"Now Jack," he gestured to the one who had been born into the earlier time period. "I understand that you are used to living in a place where you couldn't be quite so open about who you are but there is no reason for you to be afraid of someone who was from a different period of time with different social constructs." He turned to the other Jack.

"Now you have to understand that not every place and time is the same as the one in which you grew up, there are time periods where perhaps it would be best for you to be a little bit more of a toned down version of you. Also identity theft is usually not the best way to go about things, if you like I could direct you to someone who can create a fake identity for you."

He blinked in confusion when he realized that the two of them were staring at each other, for about half a second he thought that they were going to come to blows despite his clever realization but then the Jack who had his coat unbuttoned lunged across to press his lips to those of the other Jack.

The Therapist caught only a glimpse of the two snogging before the lights suddenly went out, the room didn't go completely dark. Apparently the universe couldn't handle whatever the hell had just happened. There was a pink glow cast on the walls, that the therapist slowly realized must be coming from his own hair. He hadn't the description of what the dye did beyond dying his hair pink but he certainly hadn't expected it to make his hair luminous.

"What the hell?" the Jack that spoke had his coat undone and there was a snigger in his voice but the other one didn't even hold to that degree of politeness as he doubled over, roaring with laughter. After a moment he straightened up and caught his breath enough to spit out whatever snarky comment he wanted to make.

"Mood lighting." He reached out to grab the other Jack but before the two could go back to fumbling with one another's clothing the lights came back on.

"I think that's all the time that we have for today." The Therapist frowned as he found that he had to clear his throat to get their attention. "Perhaps you two would like to continue this conversation elsewhere." _somewhere that is_ _not my couch! Tom Cruise gave me that couch!_

It took the two a few more moments to get out of the room and he tried to ignore the fact that the fifty first century man slapped his ass as he moved past him out of the room.

One the two were gone the Therapist waved his hand and the illusion of the office vanished to be replaced with the interior of the Therapist's TARDIS.

He instantly moved over to the control panel and check his reflection in one of the screens. As much as he liked the pink color of his hair more than this regeneration's usual blond he would have to get it changed. It was very unprofessional of him to have his head serve as a light source once the lights went out. Perhaps he would go blue next…

HB~M.D*M-N*M.D~HB

"Did he look a little like a weasel to you?" Jack asked the question as the man who had stolen his identity lead him up several sets of stair to get to his apartment.  
"Who?" There was such a lust in the other man's voice and Jack found himself wishing that they could get to the room quicker.

"The therapist."

"No," the future Jack Harkness growled, voice deep with want as he ripped at the others clothes, buttons flying everywhere. The original stared at him in horror, looking at his now torn jacket.

"You just ruined my coat!" And so the fight for dominance began…

HB~M.D*M-N*M.D~HB

Somewhere in another universe, a man named Harry Potter frowned. "I wonder what Malfoy got up to."

At that exact moment, a weasley looking Time Lord with neon blue hair and blond roots sneezed.

HB~M.D*M-N*M.D~HB

 _ **Hello, everybody!**_

 _ **This is Mellon-Nin (which is elvish for friend, by the way), and I am one of the *ahem* brillant minds behind these stories.**_

 _ **This will be the first thing we've ever posted like this (and by this I mean a continuing story!), and there are so many options...**_

 _ **Kylo Ren and Han Solo might make an appearance one day (which I'm pushing for btw), but the thing is...**_

 _ **All three of us are heading into exam week so writing our (crack) fanfics will most likely be put on hold for awhile.**_

 _ **For those of you who might return (or even leave a review), we promise to update, but it might not happen anytime soon.**_

 ** _We all have an AP Exam to prepare for, as well as normal exams, AND presentations for, you guessed it, AP English._**

 ** _But not to fear! We shall return, and we will post again, my young (or not so young) padawans._**

 ** _Please leave a review, and don't be strangers!_**

 ** _Signing off,_**

 ** _Mellon-Nin & Crew_**


	2. The Odyssey

**Welcome to 'The Odyssey' chapter for this story. There will be more like it, just to warn those of you who have no idea what we are talking about.**

 **Written by the … pathetic? Honey Badger (This note is influenced by Honey, who is not in any way pathetic. Quite the opposite) and edited by Mellon-Nin, your friendly neighbourhood elvish ninja.**

 **Disclaimer: You've seen them before, you know what this is. Besides, I doubt anyone is going to sue us, it's the Odyssey. Nobody really cares.**

 **Once again, inspired by a 'what if' conversation in AP English when nobody is watching.**

For reasons unknown, the best man in all of Greece, Odysseus, was unhappy. And not just a little bit unhappy, like you feel when you drop an awesome candy bar, but the deep unflinching sadness that you feel when you wake up and look at your life (or maybe that's just me). In any event, he was very unhappy. It was suggested to him by his loving and devoted wife Penelope that he go to a therapist. It was then suggested by the loyal swineherd that he go to a therapist, and so he went, because Odysseus was not going to listen to a woman about anything. On his way to his first appointment, he stopped for some McDonald's and bought tickets to the new Star Wars movie on his phone, because I don't half ass historical inaccuracies.

The Therapist, very much enjoying his new light blue hair (the exact colour of Essie strut your stuff nail polish) clapped his hands and turned his TARDIS back into an office, an office filled with fancy yet uncomfortable looking chairs, a bookshelf filled with books with names like _Help! Hamsters are plotting to kill me and also I am suffering from OCD!,_ and _So you're the Jesus figure in this book: How to deal_. It was an office meant to bring comfort to those in need. It failed at this, mostly it just made people not want to talk about their problems, for fear of being mocked. The Therapist had that kind of aura about him.

Odysseus walked in and took a seat. "So, tell me about yourself." The Therapist said, taking a seat across from him in a bitching green and sliver chair, and opening his notebook.

The Great Odysseus, cunning and wise, opened his mouth and spoke. "Well, first things first I'm the realest." The Therapist nodded, writing. "For real though, I'm Odysseus. I am the greatest guy ever, second only maybe to Achilles. Maybe. I'm super smart and super handsome and I have long ebony dark hair with purple streaks and red tips that reaches my mid-back and icy blue eyes and-"

"Well, for starters you have none of those things." The Therapist sighed. "You know what, just move on to telling me about your problem."

"Are you sure you don't want me to talk about myself some more? I'm really great. Did you know all women are at least 30% attracted to me? My mother cried the day I was born, because she knew she would never be better than me."

"No, I'm really sure." Odysseus shrugged.

"Well, my problem is that I'm not happy. Which is weird, since I'm great. For some reason, I keep getting into trouble. Like this one time, there was this thing with Zeus and then with this Cyclops…" As I'm not Homer I'm going to cut off there instead of recapping a thousand times.

By the time he had finished talking, the Therapist taken up drinking.

"Okay, for a, the fuck was up with that ending? B- you are the worst husband. Third, you have, I think the technical name for it is, "your head is so far up your own ass I'm surprised you haven't suffocated yet sydrome.""

"How dare you insult me like that! I was always faithful to my wife in my heart!" Odysseus lept to his feet, french fries falling to the floor and drawing his sword.

"Maybe that made yourself feel better when you were talking about how you were going to kill her if she so much as looked at another man while you merrily hopped up every vagina you could find, but it's not going to stand in here!" The Therapist shrieked. "Sit the fuck down!" Odysseus stood, holding his weapon. The blue haired man pulled out a shotgun and fired a shot. "I said Sit. The. Fuck. Down." Odysseus did, because he was mystified by this magic exploding stick. The Therapist dropped the gun and picked up his notebook again with a grumble. "Seriously though, your hubris is through the fucking roof. It's the cause of like sixty percent of your problems. The other forty is your deep seated love of murder, but one problem at a time. You don't learn. Ever. Which is weird because you're supposed to be brilliant, Athena loves you." He loosened his tie, taking a swing of his flask.

"What you're forgetting is that this story was written 2,700 years ago. Things were different then. My inability to learn might have been one of those things like the constant repetition. It makes sense when it's an oral poem told most likely over at least three nights, if not more, but when you put it in book form, it makes you want to gouge your eyes out with your mother's brooch."

"While that is a fair point, the fact remains that this is 2016. You can't expect anyone to completely detach from the lens from which they view everything, the lens shaped by their own culture." The Therapist noted. "So your actions come off as unbearable, regardless of how they might have come off in Greece."

"While I see your point, you've insulted me and the only answer is murder, clearly." Odysseus drew his sword again. The Therapist pulled his shotgun out again. They faced each other, tense for a moment, before the Therapist noted the time. Or one of the times, anyway.

"So the therapy hour is only 55 minutes, you know that, right?" Odysseus shook his head, but began to walk towards the door anyway. "Same time next week, okay? Bring the wife and we'll do couple's counseling."

"Can do! I'll burn some thighs in your honor!" The TARDIS's doors closed behind him, and it let up the glamour of the therapist's office.

"I really hope he meant like cow thighs or something." The Therapist mummered to himself and Dawn's rosy red fingers blah fucking blah.

Honey Badger reporting in! Well basically I only wrote this author's note as a way to get myself to stop picking fights with racists on the internet. Reverse racism is not real. It's not. Systematic inequality people, systematic inequality. Also holy shit Merry is so much more organized and professional than I am. I think she's some sort of professional in disguise (like a transformer but she's not a robot (or is she)). Anyway, high five to the person who gets all the references. I'm off to be a disappointment to my family and play dragon age. Tiny trash queer out.

 **The Star Wars one is next, I swear. I'm actually writing it atm and should have it finished by next week/tomorrow. On the other hand I think this one is ready to post and should be up there to tide you guys over.**

 _ **Merry, Star Wars has a capital W. Please use it :)**_

 **I will.**

 _ **And try to curb your desire for abbreviations. Old people use this site too. Not everybody knows what that means.**_

 _ **And to everyone else, we know you read this. We can see it. So please, please leave a review.**_

 _ **We're watching you...**_


	3. Star Wars: Part One

**Yay, Star Wars! I just saw the Force Awakens for the third time last night. Poe is my sweet child and I will fight you for him. I have been informed this will go at the end, formatting is not my job. That task falls to Mellon-Nin. ARE YOU PROUD OF MY SELF RESTRAINT ON THE COMMAS? ARE YOU? I COULD BE USING SO MANY MORE COMMAS SO MANY MORE…**

 _ **OTL… Merry, when you just take out commas, it doesn't fix everything. Sometimes it makes it worse.**_

 _ **Disclaimer shall be at the bottom.**_

The Therapist's eyes scanned his notebook, this next appointment hadn't been on his original schedule but his employer had sent him a message a few days ago detailing the two that he was about to deal with. He had to admit that the case was a rather interesting one, especially since he had been given an extensive history on the father with the sub note that his employer had flat out stated that she no longer knew if any of the information was accurate.

The admission had come with a grumble about Disney saying no that his employer had snapped at him for asking about, he got the feeling that she had some misplaced rage towards the company but she was paying him too well of him to be all that bothered with asking much more.

He glanced up as a grey haired man moved slowly into the room, the man walked like someone who was accustomed to walking into a fight and the therapist gave him a smile. He knew that it could be unnerving when one thought that they should be dead but found themselves in a office instead.

"Who are you?" The man's voice was sharp and he didn't do more than glance at the couch before his gaze focused on the therapist and his hand went for his side. Of course his gun was missing, it wasn't exactly safe for someone to carry a blaster into a therapy appointment and the therapist had made sure to pull him out of the time line at a point at which he wasn't carrying any form of weapon. That had proved to be a difficult task.

"I'm the Therapist, I'm sure that if you think on the subject you will recall being made aware that you had this appointment."

Slowly the man grumbled and he settled down onto one side of the couch, even if he clearly had been made aware of the appointment he clearly wasn't happy to be here.

"You were informed as to why you are here, correct?" The only answer he got came in the form of a brisk nod before he returned to examining the room.

"Good, good." The Therapist opened the notebook to a fresh page "Now would you mind telling me when the issues between you and your son started?" He half expected to get nothing more than a one word answer but instead the man leaned forwards.

"The issues started when we sent him off to go and train with his uncle, he was always a good boy before then. Once he left home something about him changed, he wasn't like the kid that I raised and he seemed to be torn."

"I see." The Therapist made a quick jot note and leaned forwards "Do you blame his Jedi training for this change in attitude? I understand that traditionally Jedi weren't permitted to have family attachments as it could cause some issue in devoting themselves fully to the force."

"Of course not! That's absurd!" The therapist made another little jot note, this was already turning into a more interesting case than that of the two very horny (and sexually repressed, in one case) Jacks. Of course blood relatives always seemed to be able to sustain relationships that had many more complex angles to them than people who weren't related. He supposed it had something to with social conventions that demanded people value family. Everyone always seemed to forget that the original saying had actually been 'The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb'.

"I see, and you knew his Jedi master well?" He already knew the answer to that question but he leaned back and waited to see Han's facial expression as he answered.

"Of course I know Luke, I'm the one who flew him off of his dinky little home planet so that he could go and fly against the death star!" Han leaned forwards as he spoke and there was something that the Therapist knew all too well in his eyes.

""I see, before your son gets here I have some insights onto you as a person. You seem to be extremely jealous of Luke, specifically of the fact that he has received so much praise for becoming the first of the new Jedi-"

Han scoffed and the Therapist raised an eyebrow and gestured for him to go on.

"What new Jedi? My screw up of a son killed them all before he turned to the dark side." Perhaps he had misidentified the actual target of Han's anger, he seemed to be legitimately upset over the path that his son had taken on his fall.

"I see, may I continue?" Han leaned back and gestured for him to continue "You appear to have some anger that you haven't realized yet. You are jealous of Luke for displacing you as a mentor for your son but that is perfectly normal, you being jealous that it. You ought to keep in mind that the fact that your son had to kill you to complete his turn to the dark side says quite a lot about what place you still held in his heart." Han was nodding and the Therapist continued.

"You must keep in mind that Luke never really intended to take your son away from you, the only reason he established his new Jedi order off of Coruscant was so that he would be able to try and train new Jedi away from whatever traces of dark side influence remained on the planet."

He had done some research into how the force worked and had come to the conclusion that having a being of such intense dark side energy living on a planet for so many years would leave quite the heavy trace, certainly heavy enough to influence anyone who might try to start using the force there.

"It is no fault of Luke's that your son turned to the dark side, it is quite likely that he told your son the story of how his grandfather finally managed to push aside the Emperor's influence over him to save Luke without thinking about how such a tale might affect a young boy who was only just discovering his force abilities. In any case your son turning to the dark side is no one's fault, just a series of unfortunate occurrences."

Han's facial expression turned grim but he nodded none the less.

"Now I think I ought to make an appointment with your son as well, would you be willing to make that appointment, perhaps for tomorrow sometime? So that we can go over things while they are still fresh."

Han nodded.

 **So, since Merry has no concept of formatting (WE ARE HARDCORE JUDGING YOU RIGHT NOW), we shall put this here.**

 **Disclaimer: We, unfortunately, do not own Star Wars, and although Merry would like to professionally write for them, it's Disney, and Disney always fucks everything up, so we will respectfully decline whatever they offer us (unless it's cash. We need cash badly).**

 **Actually, Merry should write for them because she has original characters for the new EU (and money. Can't forget the cash incentive).**

 **I can feel you judging me from like a meter away, pls no.**

We need cash like now. Don't discourage people from giving us jobs and/or free money.

 _ **In case you didn't notice, I'm not discouraging them, I just said unless there's money involved, we don't want anything to do with Disney and their messed up … whatever all of their franchises are called.**_

 **We should probably just post this now.**

Okay, I'm just rapidly reaching auctioning off organs/my virginity/my hair to pay for uni at this point so...

 _ **I feel that.**_

 **Post the damn fic Mel.**

Merry, the people need to know about my auctions or how will they bid?

 _ **Yeah, Merry, don't hate. Actually, you should try it too, since you can't get any scholarships. So should I, now that I think about it.**_

 **Post the damn fic someone, I'm writing part two.**

 _ **Don't give away spoilers, Merry, goddammit. How many times are we going to have this conversation?**_

 _ **Anyways, review! Please! I'm actually slightly begging right now. Like, on my knees. This is how far you people have driven me.**_


	4. Star Wars: Interlude 1

**So… Be prepared, short chapter, looooong author's note. Shall we move on to the disclaimer?**

 **Disclaimer: Star Wars, which used to belong to George Lucas, now belongs to Disney, not us. If it did, the movies would be exactly like this. Exactly.**

 **Remember, pictures. We want pictures.**

The Therapist sat down on his big bitching chair, waiting for his next appointment. His new patient was not one he was familiar with, though they sometimes ran in the same, well normally the word is circles, but that doesn't really apply so the same Lego blocks? Yeah, that works.

The door opened, and in walked in the best goddamn smuggler in the galaxy, all 7'6" of him. Chewbacca was glorious, covered in thick fur and wearing a stylish bandoiler. He sat down on the couch. "What seems to be the problem?" The therapist asked, clicking his pen.

"Hrhhhhaurrrghhhhhhhhh." The Wookie mused, deep voice reverberating through the office. "Haughhhhhh."

The Therapist nodded. "See, I think the joke is supposed to be that I'm going to react to the outlandish things you're saying by repeating it in a shocked tone, but that violates doctor patient confidentiality. Also, your issues are very serious, please continue."

HB~M.D*M-N*M.D~HB

Han Solo was going Han Solo things (which according to that video I found means dancing in sync with a group of others to a song entitled "I'm Han Solo") in a bar, enjoying his life, thinking fondly about his loving wife and his totally not evil at all son who loved him so much. Then a pink haired man appeared, clutching a deep brown bottle in one fist. "Ey, you, Solololoo. I got a problem with you." He slurred, taking an unsteady seat next to him at the bar.

"Look, if this is about who shot who first I'm not-"

"That joke is sooo old shut up…" The man said, blindly reaching out to pat at Han's face like that would get him to stop talking. "This is about Chewie, that magnificent man beast alien thing."

"Chewie? What's the problem with Chewie? He's great." Han asked, concerned.

"You, you space galavanting bastard and your wife. And blond Superman. You dragged him all over the fucking place, took him to the Death Star, he was there the entire time and only you two pretty boys got a medal. The fuck is up with that? Are you racist? Wookie racist?"

"Ah, no. I wasn't actually in charge of that stuff, you know? I'm an ex-Imperial guy who is now a smuggler, I don't have much political sway."

"But Leia, that cinnamon bunned wonder woman, does. And she was there! She was there! HE DESERVED A MEDAL HE WORKED SO HARD HE CAME FROM SLAVERY AND LOOK AT HIM NOW HE'S A SUCCESS STORY AND IT'S TOUCHING." The Therapist wailed.

"Are you, are you sobbing?" The Therapist was, and Han patted him half heartedly on the back, making shushing noises. It worked for Ben, sometimes.

It was several minutes before the Therapist could speak again. 'Dude, please give him a medal, please show him you love him. He works so hard, he's overcome so much, the struggle with his identity in conservative Wookie society, the whole slavery thing, the heroin thing, and that time with the ducks and a bottle of gin."

"I think you're breaking doctor patient confidentiality here." Han noted, uneasily. "You can get sued for that."

The Therapist bolted upright. "Yer right, yer right. I can't I can't talk about this anymore. I need to get to the TARDIS, the Time And Rubies Doombot Insect Spacemobile."

"I don't think that's what it stands for." But Han threw an arm over the Therapist's shoulder and helped him up, and then to his ship. "Nice setup you got here. What do you do?"

"I'm a therapist." The other man answered, flopping bonelessly down on the couch. "I'm a problem solverererer. And I'm good."

"Really?" He replied, somewhat dubiously. "I'll have to remember that. Do you often hunt down friends of your client while fall down drunk?" He turned to leave, when the Therapist called out again.

"Thank you Indiana Jones ear Harrison Ford, you sexy beast. May you, your kickass wife and whiny yet bangable son have a goood time together."

"What." Han decided he needed to leave right now, because this was getting weird. "Don't talk about Ben like that." He left.

"But the entire cast of that movie is sooo prettyyyyy…" The Therapist yelled to an empty room. "Oscar Isaac, take me away." He drunkenly muttered into the pillow, passing out.

Hello to the cat that accidentally opened this! I'm Honey, in case you're having a hard time remembering what text feature denotes who. which is understandable. All misspellings in the therapist's speech are on purpose because he's hammered. I'm also the writer of this piece, and you can tell because it's a rambling mess instead of something coherent, like what Merry writes. For real though, everyone in TFA was so pretty. I think Mellon will interject with her disclaimer at some point, but until then I'm just going to ramble, like I think the next one might be Dragon Age themed because who doesn't want to punch Solas right in his stupid face? Jessica Jones is such a good show. We're all Canadian and there actually is three of us. Right now we're in a public library and just collectively writing on Google Docs which is why you get the back and forth. I am really surprised Mellon hasn't stopped me yet.

 _ **No, I'm just going to let you ramble, build up the word count a little. By all means, continue.**_

WOO HOO FREE REIGN! I found an infant. Why aren't there tissues in public places anymore? Will the Deadpool movie live up to the hype? Will I get my assignments done? Probably. I'd like to thank Merry and Mellon for letting me make canon pansexual Therapist a thing. This table I'm sitting on is sort of uncomfortable. I don't want to go to school tomorrow. The monkey with the hat is judging me and I don't like it. I'm not judging him. Mellon didn't believe me about the monkey but it's true. Honey out!

 _ **To be fair, we're in a library. I had no idea where said monkey was. Now I do.**_


	5. Star Wars: Part Two

**Yep I'm still Merry and I'm writing Star Wars. I will say that Honey is much more capable of pushing out quality crack fiction at rapid speeds than I am. My current plans are to write this one (Kylo Ren finally shows) and then move onto writing the Sherlock intervention fic. Nin would love you all for eternity if you guys decided to read our other stories and leave reviews.**

 **Also if you do review let us know if you want us to do a commentary on My Immortal and post that.**

 **I apologize for the mess at the end of the last part.**

 **Disclaimers can go alongside authors notes btw. We don't own Star Wars but if Disney hires me to write then I would go.**

 _ **MERRY! Dammit, we literally just had, not even a full 5 minutes ago, a conversation about formatting things! Why do I have a feeling you're just going to continue doing this to spite me?**_

 **Who's using too many commas now?**

 _ **Really? That's all you have to say to me? I am not afraid to pull seniority, my friend. And I never said anything about the commas, you beat me to that yourself.**_

… _**Ahem. We're getting ahead of ourselves here. Merry, what do you say to the lovely people of the internet when they read our …. I actually have no words to describe what the hell this is. Anyways, what do we say?**_

 **Read at your own discretion? Or do we just apologize?**

… _**Close enough.**_

The Therapist tapped his foot impatiently on the ground as he waited for Han and Kylo Ren to walk into the room, the two weren't late but none the less the idea that he had agreed to meet with homicidal sith lord (Where there really any other kind of Sith Lords?) and the father that he had killed to continue on his path to darkness had only just occurred to his hung over brain that morning.

He wasn't entirely sure why he was hung over, he recalled meeting with Chewbacca the previous day and he had his recorded notes on the meeting but he had no memory of going out drinking. Ah well, no ill had come of it save for the blond haired elf who had bolted from his room with a polite apology once he had realized that the Therapist was awake.

As it was his head was pounding and despite the advil he had taken that morning and the water that he had been drinking (Hangovers are mostly dehydration.) all day his headache had only lessened every so slightly and he was dreading today's appointments. It turned out that Lomin ale was as good as Corran said it was but he didn't recall much after he had meet the star fighter pilot for drinks.

He had just shifted to be more comfortable in the seat and closed his eyes in the anticipation of a nap since it seemed that his clients weren't going to show when he heard the door opened and forced himself to jerk upright.

He refused to allow a wince to cross his face as the door handle crashed against the wall but rather gestured for Han and Kylo to enter and sit down on the couch, if either of them noticed his fragile state neither of them commented, something he was grateful for until he noticed that Kylo wore his light saber.

"So I understand that the two of you are having some family issues." He realized that he had forgotten to look at his notes before the two of entered and only just stopped himself from grabbing for the notebook in a panic. It would be fine, he had committed all of his notes to memory anyway, the booklet was just so he could go over it again and be certain.

"Yes." Damnit, today wasn't the day that he wanted them to give him simple one word answers, he could hardly think and they weren't giving him anything to work with. To be fair his question had been pretty vague in the first place.

"Okay, perhaps we could go back to where your issues began?" Since they didn't seem like they were about to offer him anything without being prodded to do so he would prod. Again neither of them spoke but there was something in Kylo's eyes that told him that the Sith Lord wanted to be speak. "Kylo do you have something to say?"

"His name is not Kylo, his name's Ben." There was a challenge in Han's voice and he shifted so that he could glare at his son as he spoke.

"Ben's dead, I killed him." There was a pleading note in the Sith Lord's voice, like he was getting sick of repeating those words over and over again and just wanted some form of acknowledgement from his father. "I think that our issues might have began when Father insisted that I remain on Coruscant instead of going to start my Jedi training with unc - Luke Skywalker." The Therapist made a mental note of the slight pause and then change of words.

"Yes I see." The Therapist tilted his head towards the parent in question "Do you have any particular reasons behind your resistance towards your son attending his uncles Jedi Academy." He had tossed the ball into Han's court now, the man could either bring up the topics that they had discussed in their previous session - he couldn't bring them up with Kylo in the room without breaking doctor patient confidentiality - or bring up another issue.

For a moment Han just stared at them and the Therapist wondered if he had made an error, he quickly went back over and reviewed what he had just said. The TARDIS would have translated his words of english so that couldn't be the problem and he didn't think that he had accidentally slipped up and said something that he shouldn't. Before he could ask what the problem was Han shrugged and spoke.

"Not really," the Therapist had seen this sort of thing before, when two people came in for therapy together they began to act like children and refused to speak without being prompted to do so. He wasnèt in any fit state to deal with that kind of behaviour today.

"In that case Kylo would you like to theorize on why your father could have been so resistant to you going into training for the powers that you were born with?" It was only polite that he use the name that the Sith Lord had chosen for himself.

"Sure, he's a controlling jackass," There was rage on Kylo's face and the Therapist realized that perhaps it would have been a good idea to get his hands on a ysalamir before he agreed to meet with someone who was so emotionally unstable. He didn't know how the Sith Lord would have reacted if he had walked into the room and found himself cut off from the force but at the very least he wouldn't have been able to use the force to throw them around.

"I'm the jackass? You're the one who killed me!" Han surged to his feet in an effort to loam over his son but Kylo moved with him and bared his teeth in a dark parody of a smile.

"I killed you, and you decided to drag me to some post life therapist?" Kylo glanced over to the Therapist as if seeking some support from him before continuing "You're dead and yet you still persist to try and control me!" He grabbed his lightsaber from his side and raised it, thumb hovering over the on switch.

The Therapist reached behind him to pull what appeared to be a long stick from between the cushions of his chair, he waved it in what might appear to be a careless gesture to someone who was untrained in how to use wands and whispered "Expelliarmus" under his breath. A green light flashed from the end of his wand and then Kylo's lightsaber flew across the room.

The Therapist let out a breath he hadn't realized that he had been holding, he had no idea what would happen if someone from the main reality was killed while on a voyage to this strange little alternate reality plane. He was relieved that he wouldn't be finding out today. He had been lucky that he was still as deft with a wand as he been so many years ago when he had been at hogwarts.

He realized quickly that the two of them were staring at him with mouths wide open and he slowly sat back down, returning the sonic wand to the small holster on the back of the cushion of his chair.

"The hell was that thing? Does it harness the force in some manner? You certainly aren't force sensitive." For a moment the Therapist was frozen as he tried not to wince, Kylo sounded entirely too curious about his sonic wand and he could feel the boy testing at the force block that he had created to hide his own abilities. He could drop the block and let the boy think that he had used to the force or he could pass it off as something else… a plan came to mind and he had to resist the urge to grin.

"No, no. Quite the opposite actually. It's merely a technological advancement, it requires me to say a key phrase and then it will perform an action." Kylo didn't seem to be convinced but he sat back down anyway, Han didn't sit until his son had already settled back down.

"Now perhaps we can get back to the issues at hand? You can recover your lightsaber at the end of the session." He rather hoped that the Sith Lord would forget it and give him a new toy to play with but he doubted that would occur, all these force users tied to much of their self identity into that little glowy sword. Freud would probably point out it's men who hit each other with long extending sticks but because I don't relate everything in life to dicks I'm not going to do that.

"Now perhaps you are a little bit controlling Han, you do have to learn to live and let go." He resisted the urge to either say die and let live or add 'like Elsa' onto the end, but he sincerely doubted that the smuggler would understand the second reference or appreciate him saying the other. "But Kylo you do need to understand that patricide is not the solution to any problems that you may have had with your father. Besides, he is still technically dead right now so I think you may have already taken out any anger that you might have had with him."

That got an annoyed glare from Han and a satisfied smile out of Kylo, perhaps they would be able to make some progress after all and this session wouldn't end in some horrifically traumatic amputation or a hand or limb.

"Now Kylo can you think of any other reason that you might have to be angry with your father?" the Therapist risked a quick glance at his time piece, the session was very nearly over and they had hardly cover any of the ground that they had gone over with Han previously let alone anything that he could really work with from Kylo.

"Well he did name me after my uncle's son from an alternate universe." Han blinked in surprise and Kylo smiled again "Oh yes, father, I know all about itha."

The Therapist leaned forwards and glanced between the two of them, finally something that his employer had actually covered in the notes that she had given him. Of course the notes were covered in confused question marks that almost ripped a hole in the paper but at least it was a something that he had some information on.

"I see, Han would you like to give us some insight on why you made this decision?" He made sure to hold Han's eyes with his own until the man gave a reluctant grunt and nodded.

"I had two sons in that alternate universe" Apparently the pilot had no idea that he was actually in said universe right now. It was the only place where the Therapist could pull people from the main universes and keep them from exploding with relative ease. "Anakin died fighting the Yuuzhan Vong and Jacen turned to the dark side. Luke's kid did pretty well for himself despite have a woman who started out on the dark side as his mother so I figured that it would be better for me to use that name."

Han looked about to break and the Therapist decided that now was a good time to push a little bit more and hopefully make a little bit more progress in this session.

"I see... and you thought that by naming your son after the only one out of the next Skywalker generation to do well for themselves," Han grunted at that but the Therapist pressed on, he just had to hope that the man wouldn't bring up Jaina. "Then you would be able to offer him some safety in his future. Han you have to understand that despite your best intentions you cannot control the actions or fate of another person."

"Now Kylo I would highly recommend that you attend some anger management sessions and try to get your temper under more extensive control. I imagine that even a dark Lord of the Sith needs to have some control of his abilities." He was rambling now, giving too much advice too quickly but the session was nearly over and he wanted to try and solve some of their most alarming issues. "I'd like you to keep in mind that there are other solutions to issues that don't involve violence and murder. Isn't trickery also a weapon of the Sith?"

There was a considering look in Kylo's eyes now and the Therapist leaned back, the two would need more sessions but there was the beginning of a paved path now.

"That's all the time we have for today, I'll make sure to pencil you in for next week." He didn't remind Kylo of his lightsaber, made sure not to glance over to the direction in which it had flown but the Sith Lord still extended a hand and called the hilt to him, before he left the room. Han followed soon after him and the Therapist leaned forwards to bury his head in his hands. He had been able to forget his hangover while in the midst of a session but now that the adrenaline was gone it had come back ten fold. He was never going to go drinking with the Rogue Squadron again.

 **Yay it's done, I'm either going to work on a chapter of this with the Sherlock intervention next or write something semi-serious that has to do with a short story from Advanced English 11.** **Also credit where credits due, Honey is much better at writing crack fiction than I am 3.**

 _ **Still has no concept of formatting… *sigh***_

 _ **Anyways, here you go! I'm not sure if you guys were waiting for this chapter or not, but here it is anyway. Now, onto the serious bit.**_

 _ **We are all highly anxious teenagers with a need for feedback, and we haven't gotten any, even though about 100 people (I was surprised too) have read this stuff. Well, we do have one, but I know the kid that wrote it. I watched him.**_

 _ **At this point I have begged, pleaded, offered prizes, just about everything to try and get a 'good job' or something similar. C'mon, guys, all you need to do is type a heart into the review box and send it. We don't even need words! Just a frowny face or something!**_

 _ **I like to think we are good at what we do. Now, if people don't tell us that it sucks or that they like it, then we have no idea. Because let's face it, if we showed this to our teachers we'd probably get in some kind of trouble.**_

 _ **Normally, I'd continue with the begging, but I'm tired because waking up at three AM is never a good idea, and math. Math is never a good idea in mornings.**_

 _ **So I'm tired, hungry, and a little annoyed (not the right word, but I'll save the swearing for a chapter) by the fact that people don't bother just typing two to three characters in the blank box underneath a chapter and then clicking the post button. Honestly, it's not that hard. All we're asking for is a hey. Or a face, an emoji, just something.**_

 _ **If you don't want a comment posted with the story, you can just PM us.**_

 _ **Please, just… feedback.**_

 _ **Sorry for those of you who don't like conflict, but we're just all getting frustrated with this.**_

 _ **On another note, I will be updating What Comes Of AP English today, as well as Lord of the Torchwood Guardians of DC. They have been edited, so hopefully that prompts some kind of response.**_

 _ **I am also in the process of updating all previous chapters. If you don't want to re-read them, you don't have to. It's just little things. I've been trying my hand at random crack, so we'll see if it's any good or not.**_

 _ **I realize this is really long, and I'm about to wrap it up in a few seconds, so thank you to the people who are actually reading this right now. It means a lot.**_

 _ **There is also a special chapter in the works, and I'll be posting that soon, so remember to tune in again sometime soon!**_

 _ **Since my rant/author's note is probably a page right now, there will be no disclaimer for this chapter, unless you really want one. If you do, mention it in a review or a PM and I'll add it.**_

 _ **Oh, before I sign off, we now have a Google+ account by the name of Helisenna Jattsoneau (because Google is stupid and wouldn't let us use this name). Check us out :) We are hoping to make a tumblr account, but don't get your hopes up. I've tried multiple times, and I still can't get it right.**_

 _ **This has been Mel, your currently not-so-friendly neighborhood elvish ninja, signing off.**_


	6. Interlude

**Written and conceived by your elvish friend, Mellon-Nin. Edited by MerryDew, and hopefully Honey Badger, but we make no promises.**

 **We would like to inform you that this particular chapter is very... different from the usual in this story. No, seriously. It is.**

 **Disclaimer: You've already read it once, you're fine. If you really want to read it again then we have two oneshots you can read. No, really. Read them.**

 **Author's Note below.**

The Therapist ran around the console, flicking switches as psychedelic colors and patterns swirled around the TARDIS interior, Cindy Lauper's 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun' pulsing through the air. He bobbed his head, singing along from time to time as he danced, typing in a destination as he twirled. After all, he couldn't be late for his next appointment. The song quickly changed, as did the mood lighting, a disco ball dropping from the ceiling as 'Y.M.C.A' blasted through the invisible speakers. His neon blue head bounced along, when finally, the TARDIS came to a halt, shuddering as it did.

The Therapist sighed sadly as the interior faded into a cream colored office, filled with abstract art, mahogany furniture, leather chairs and a couch, and plants. Seriously, why did he own so many holographic plants? He didn't even like the color green. He sighed again, looking at his watch to see how much time he had left to change. He shrugged, before fiddling with his cuffs. He was decent, so it shouldn't matter much. He frowned, staring at his silver snake shaped cuff links.

A knock on the now wooden doors broke his intense gaze, causing him to blink before pulling a pair of black and silver frames out of his pocket. "Yes, come in," he called, heading over to his desk.

Three very interesting looking girls walked in, each very unique looking.

The first was a trashy small queer with really curly hair and a lust for murder but mostly sleep. Seriously can I go back to the chair and sleep now please god just let me sleep fuck afternoon classes.

( _Thank you, Honey Badger, for your input. Now, let me start over._ )

The first stood at average height, with long brown hair and bleached bangs, a lot like Rogue. Only the bleached bit wasn't white, she didn't have the patience for that at the time. Wearing a ribbed tank top and plaid, as well as leggings instead of pants, (He felt that, who has time for pants? Weirdos, that's who.) and oval plastic frames on her face.

The second was small, and had thick curly hair that seemed to defy the laws of gravity. A sweater bearing the Robin symbol and a skirt with patterned tights underneath defined her, as well as a pair of glasses and violet (well, it looked more red at this point) dye in a similar fashion to the first coloring her hair. She played with her hands as she stood still, waiting for some indication of what to do.

The third was, once again, the average height, and had short hair with bangs brushing her forehead. She had her hands in the pockets of her jacket, which had many, and stared at hi through her silver frames, lenses glinting.

That seemed to be a common trait, he mused. Strange that all of them would be wearing glasses. He picked up a folder, flipping through to their profiles. He glanced up at them, smiling in a way he thought to be charming.

"Please, take a seat." He gestured to the couch in front of him, hoping they would sit down quickly so he could begin.

The first one to move was the one with the bleached bangs, moving to sit on the end closest to the door. The shorter one followed her, sitting on beside her. The third moved to sit on the arm of the couch before changing her mind, sitting on the ground in front of them. He blinked, well, that was new. No one had ever done that before.

He quickly read the sheets in front of him, raising an eyebrow at the names. Clearly, he needed a new secretary.

"So, which of you is Miss Dew?"

The one wedged between the arm and the smaller girl (who had progressed to just laying on the couch, head resting in the taller girl's lap (depending on the person this can get you accidentally kneed in the head why do people's knees so bony?) raised her hand, speaking very clearly. "Me." She then decided to name everyone else for him, perhaps to save time.

"That's Honey, and Mel's on the floor, currently squishing my feet."

Mel merely glanced at her before shuffling forwards a smidge.

"Thanks. And it's Merry, not Miss."

Honey, the one with the impossible hair, decided to speak up. "Finally, someone has called me miss without adding 'you're making a scene.' But really, just our names work. There's three of us, and it will get confusing. Or more confusing, I guess."

The therapist blinked, before nodding, steeling himself for the hour ahead.

"Merry, then. Can you tell me why you all are here?"

The only blond, besides himself, of course, opened her mouth. "Well, no one really knows. I think some people believe we have to learn a lesson, while others-"

"Yes," he cut in, "Thank you, Mellon, was it? I meant why have you all decided on group therapy?"

She blinked, tilting her head. "You're the doctor, aren't you? Don't you already know?"

Merry nudged her with her knee, causing her to whisper 'ow' under her breath. "Mel was the one who suggested it, actually. We've been having... problems." At the pause, they all glanced at each other, small smiles flickering across their faces.

"Is this about this time I almost got hit by a car trying to pet a dog? Because I told you I've only done that like, okay, more than once but not that often." Honey asked, apparently not that aware of what was actually happening.

He shook his head. He really needed a vacation, now he was seeing things. Why would they smile? If they were having problems with each other, then chances were they were fighting-

"Yeah, we were wondering where we should send you next."

His eyes shot to, once again, the blond on the floor. She was going to cause problems, most likely.

"Excuse me?" he asked, eyebrows raising.

The, so far, quiet (that's actually really weird because I never shut up I'm assuming this is me right guys ( _Yes, Honey, we were ALL quiet_ )) brunette interrupted him this time. "Oh, nothing. Mel's just a little antsy. She doesn't like talking to people very much. Also, do we get food at any point here? Because the last time I had group therapy we got food." (Also sometimes I was able to convince my parents to get me food on the way home. Those were the days. Okay it was two months ago. I do miss those little bags of Doritos (Also from my time in group therapy: I wore cat stickers on my face for an entire session.) _Why am I not surprised?_ )

Merry gave the Mel another nudge, confusing him. What had the girl done this time? And antsy? She looked right at him, lounging on his carpet. In fact, now she was lying over the others feet, muttering about taking a nap.

"So, what kind of problems do you have with each other, exactly?" he questioned, slightly wary of the trio now. Something was... off.

"Not as off as your hair," someone murmured, causing giggles to erupt from the three, all of them laughing cheerfully.

Something was definitely wrong. He hadn't even said anything out loud, so how could they have known?

Mel clawed her way up to a sitting position, giggles escaping her as she tried to talk. "Remember, remember the-" She rawred, making a face and curling her hands in a claw position, and the laughter started again, causing the other two to fall on top of each other in their mirth.

The therapist stared in fear, and a little confusion. What the hell was going on?

And then the music started.

 _'Sweet dreams are made of thee...'_

 _..._ What?! He leaped out of his amazingly comfy chair, and ran to his desk, fiddling with buttons, trying to get it to stop, and that's when the disco ball dropped from the ceiling.

His jaw practically dropped to the floor. What was wrong with his TARDIS?!

Merry spoke, and somehow he could hear her over the music.

"This is very Vonnegut, isn't it?"

"Slaughterhouse Five-Vonnegut or Cat's Cradle- Vonnegut?"

Mel simply stared at the other two. "What now?"

Merry continued. "Kilgore Trout-Vonnegut. You know, writing ourselves confronting our character."

"I wish we could have confronted someone hot." The third voice chimed in.

And that was the moment the therapist woke up.

Or did he really?

So two fun facts here, everything in the brackets is a- written by me and b- true. Actually all of the nonsense that comes out of my mouth here is true. I'm the idiot baby of the group. Mellon is the mom. She made me get vitamins. Merry is like my father, distant and constantly disappointed in me and once she punched me in the face.

 _ **I think Merry will disagree with that.**_

 _ **Wait a sec… So if I'm Mom, does that mean I can make you eat actual food? Because you can't live off Susan and vitamins forever, Honey.**_

 **To give that context I ACCIDENTLY punched Honey in the face during a group hug two years ago and she won't let it go.**

 _ **Like Elsa!**_

 _ **Anyways, time to play a game called Catch the Reference! If you can find it, you will get a chance to dictate what we write. Use this power wisely, young ones.**_


End file.
